Downfall
by SiennaR79
Summary: FreddyKatie, one-shot. It's more like a scene than a story, but please r & r because it's really different from the other things I've written. PG-13 because there are a lot of drug references. It's not long, just take ten minutes and r & r it...please?


Author's Note: I don't know exactly where this came from. It's a lot different from the other SoR stuff I write, or even read. Anyway, please review…if I don't get many reviews I'll take it down, because it's kind of weird. Let me know what you think…I'm sorta wondering what happens next, but I don't wanna turn this into a full-blown fic, so…yeah, just…review?

-Sienna

* * *

Downfall

"Come down," Freddy Jones said. "Come down."

Katie Brown couldn't hear him. She was standing on the roof of his car, which was parked in a field more than a mile from the road. Her arms were thrown up to the stars, her head tilted back, watching those little bright lights meld together into one great fireball and then burst and sprinkle out again. It made her laugh. Everything made her laugh.

"You're high as a kite, Katie. Come down."

She sighed. She was high, and she knew it, because life never felt this good the rest of the time. But then she thought of something: she could spell 'kite' out of the letters in 'katie'! Spinning precariously on the roof, her barefoot feet slipping, she laughed again.

Freddy shook his head. In one swift movement, he climbed from the hood of his car to the roof, standing beside his Katie, holding her steady. "You're going to fall."

"I know," she said. "I am going to fall. I might die."

"Yeah. You might." He wondered what she had in her tonight, hoping it was just weed and alcohol. It had taken him longer than usual to find her this time. After concert finished because she'd gotten picked up by some college guys; they took her to a club. Freddy knew Katie well enough to know that she'd probably lied and said she was eighteen instead of sixteen, and the guys were probably scrupulous enough to lie to the bartender and say she was twenty-one just so they could get her drunk. That's how it usually happened. He had tracked her down, through cell phone calls and lots of driving—the club was seedy, to say the least. It stank of smoke and marijuana. People were doing lines in the bathroom. It was the last place he wanted his fragile friend to be.

Tears welled up in Katie's red eyes, then spilled over, running mascara down her face. She smeared it around with her sleeves. "I don't want to die, Freddy. I really don't."

"I know," Freddy said, rubbing her cheek red and clean. "I don't want you to die either."

"But I might."

_If you keep doing this, it's likely._ "Or you might get hurt, Katie."

She was sobering now—whether it was a temporary emotion, or her high was truly ebbing, he couldn't tell. "Don't tell Dewey," she whispered.

"Have I ever?"

"Have you?"

"Of course not." This was the place he brought her when she was messed up, where she could scream or cry or dance naked, all of which she'd done at least once. But the visits here were getting more frequent. He would never tell. His guilt was too strong to let anyone see her, the proof of his mistake.

Katie slumped down on the car, staring without blinking at the red plaid on her black pants. There was something she wanted to tell Freddy…. It felt like her mind was wrapped in cotton. "_Their lives were so glamorous…Sid and Nancy were a mess…._"

Freddy kicked at his antenna, mentally berating himself. Then he sat down next to her, putting his arm behind her back for support, and she leaned against him. She was crying again, but didn't really notice.

"_When you're hooked on heroin, don't you know you'll never win…._"

"I'm sorry, Katie."

"_Drugs don't ever pay, you really did it your way…Love killsss…_"

"You're not addicted, are you?"

"What? No…I only…on weekends…and not the same, like…stuff…."

It was the most coherent sentence she'd uttered all night. Freddy hugged her.

"I'm so sorry, Katie," he repeated.

She smiled. "Sorry forrrrr what?" she slurred.

He didn't answer. He cried a little. And he hated crying, like most boys do, but even more because it was a sign of futility, that he really could do nothing now, nothing to change what he'd done. Because deep down he knew, if he'd never handed her the pipe, she'd never have started smoking. And if he never gave her little baggies of pot, her parents never would have found it and grounded her indefinitely. And if she wasn't grounded indefinitely, she wouldn't sneak away with guys ten years older than her to bars and clubs and apartments where God only knows what happened….

A little hiccup rocked her shoulders. "Ah fergive you, Freddy."

"Tell me that tomorrow."

"Why? Why can't I say it now?"

"Because I don't know if you mean it. You're still stoned."

"I am…." It sounded like she was going to add 'not', but reconsidered. "I am. I'll tell you…tomorrow." She sighed and put her head on his lap.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "You tired?"

"Yes."

For almost a full minute there was silence, until Katie suddenly sat up and looked him in the eye. She'd remembered what she wanted to tell him.

"I love you, Freddy Jones," she said. Then she kissed him on the mouth, and he put his arm around her waist to keep her on the car.

They pulled apart. "I love you too, Katie," said Freddy wistfully.

She smiled and lay back down, making a pillow in his lap out of her arms. She didn't realize she'd done the exact same thing last week, and the week before it, and the week before that. She only felt safe, albeit stoned, but secure out in the middle of nowhere with the boy she loved.

Freddy leaned back. It was his turn to stare at the sky, only to him the stars didn't mutate or make him laugh. They were just there, shining, with cold light.

Maybe the real reason he didn't tell anyone, not even Zack, was that he liked this time with Katie. He liked taking care of her, like he imagined he might do when he got older—but that would never happen if she kept this up; she either wouldn't make it or wouldn't settle down. On the other hand, she never once said "I love you" and kissed him when she wasn't high.

So, like a junkie for affection, he kept coming back.

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Seriously now, what did you think of this?


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